


HARMONIES 



M.A.OeWOLFE HOWE 




Class JH^^£Xr 

Book Qss^Hs 



GopightD". 



<)0<^ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



HARMONIES 

A Book of Verse 











HARMONIES 

A BOOK OF VERSE 
M^A^De WOLFE HOWE 






HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

BOSTON AND NEW YORK • THE 

RIVERSIDE PRESS CAMBRIDGE 

1909 





1 

0* 



COrVRIGHT, 1909, BY M. A. DE WOLFE HOWE 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published October iQog 



^/ 



/ 



©GI.A25I2 



NOTE 

A portion of the following collection is taken from the 
writer's previous volume, Shadows. For permission to re- 
print the verses which have appeared in periodicals acknow- 
ledgments are gratefully made to the various publishers. 



CONTENTS 






PAGE 


The Song to the Singer 


2 


Harmonies 


3 


Laus Dionysi 


5 


Finalities 




I. The Ambush 


IS 


II. The Last Enemy 


i6 


The Valiant 


i8 


For the Night 


20 


Distinction 


22 


Of Elizabethan Poets 


22 


The Unseen Panoply 


23 


The Lark Songs 


25 


A Birthday Verse 


27 


The Play 


28 


Proportion 


30 


The Sea Voice 


32 


The Evangel 


34 


Unconqiiered 


36 


The Helmsman 


Z1 



viii CONTENTS 




By the Shore 


38 


Flags at Half-Mast 


41 


The Death 


42 


The Orchestra 


44 


The First of Spring 


47 


Weeping Willows 


47 


Interpretation 


48 


The Horizon at Sea 


SO 


The Field-Day 


SI 


'' Hoar-Frost like Ashes " 


S4 


Winter Beauty 


S4 


A Tree 


S5 


Goldenrod 


58 


Revelation 


58 


Fire of Apple-Wood 


69 


Broken Stillness 


61 


Before the Snow 


62 


Song 


63 


Bitter-Sweet 


64 


The Blind 


65 


Giving and Keeping 


66 


A Treasure House 


67 


A Sermon 


68 



CONTENTS 


ix 


At the Heart 


70 


The Headsman 


71 


The Field of Honor 


73 


The Physician 


74 


Geography 


75 


Lesbians Sparrow 


77 


"Whom the Gods Love" 


79 


A Gala Day 


79 


Investigation 


80 


The Last Act 


82 


After All 


83 


The Travellers 


84 


"Where It Listeth'' 


86 


A Winter Elegy 


87 


The Waiting Deeds 


89 


The Sunrise 


91 


For E. W. H. 




The Abiding Voice 


95 


Returned 


97 


Fourscore 


99 


The Presence 


100 


The Inner Chamber 


104 



HARMONIES 



THE SONG TO THE SINGER 

They will not know who read and sing 
What you and I know who have known 

How fair I was that day of spring 
I hade you mould me for your own. 

These words which half reveal my soul 
Are how much more to you and me I 

Pellucid beauties, clear and whole, 
Behind, around them all we see. 

Above this faltering tune that tells 
The measure I must walk within, 

For us a sweeter music wells — 

The magic strain that should have been. 

Yet this is better than to die, 
And you had joy of me one day ; 

Then you are mine, and yours am I — 
Who likes us not may go his way. 



HARMONIES 

Strange Instrument of many strings 
For men to play on, slaves and kings, 
Let me but keep thee, Life, in tune, 
That fall what may, by night or noon. 
Still in the heart shall sing for me 
One clear and constant melody. 

Too oft the clamor and the strife 
Of living quench the notes of life; 
Too oft they lose their customed way, 
In alien sequences to stray. 
Yet ever stealing back, they fall 
Into the cadence sought through all. 

Then grief and gladness, love and pain 
Blend all their harmonies again; 



HARMONIES 
The heavens uplift a shining arch 
Spacious above the souFs brave march : 
// / but keep thee, night and noon, 
Ever and truly, Life, in tune — 
Strange instrument of many strings 
For slaves to play on, and for kings. 



LAUS DIONYSI 

(For Music) 

Chorus: Men^ Women, Boys 

SPRING ON THE LAND 

Spring on the vineyards of Attica ! Spring on the 
land, 
All the dear land of the Hellenes loved of the 
sun! 
The god Dionysus immortally breathes his com- 
mand, 
And the bars of the prison of winter dissolve, and 
are gone! 

He hath slept — he awakes; he stirs on the hills — 
he is free, 
And the blood at the bountiful heart of the earth 
throbs again; 



6 LAUS DIONYSI 

Blue is the sky overhead and blue is the sea, 
And green roll the billows on laughing valley and 
plain. 

The sap, to the uttermost tendrils, is quick in the 
vine; 
It shall creep, it shall mount, till the spheres of 
delight take form; 
They shall blush, they shall swell, — and their 
blood flowing red in the wine 
Shall be one with the life-blood of men, all 
vibrant and warm. 

Who but thee, Dionysus, hath guarded the vine- 
yards at first? 
Their fruit at the last shall be turned to thy 
kingly employ; 



LAUS DIONYSI 7 

And cool at the lips of sorrowing mortals athirst 
Flows ever thy chalice of kinship and freedom and 
joy. 

Chorus: Women 

THE BIRTH OF DIONYSUS 

Semele, a woman, bore thee: 

We, her mortal sisters, know 
All she won and suffered for thee — 
All her ecstasy and woe. 
lo Bacche, 
lo Bacche, 
Daughters of the sun-kissed grape 
Joy nor anguish may escape. 

Semele besought her lover: 

" Zeus, effulgent king, draw nigh ! 

All thy splendor now uncover 
As to Hera throned on high ! " 



LAUS DIONYSI 

lo Bacche, 

lo Bacche, 
Daughters of the mystic vine 
Ever crave a heavenly sign. 

"Semele, I come." And round her 
Blazed a glory, lightning- torn. 
Blinded, stricken, dead, they found her 
Yet was Dionysus born, 
lo Bacche, 
lo Bacche, 
Daughters of the mortal race 
Dying still to life give place. 

Child of Semele, we sing thee 

Hymns of holy mysteries; 
Nature's next of kin we bring thee 

Earth's eternal sympathies. 



LAUS DIONYSI 

lo Bacche, 

lo Bacche, 
Daughters of the soul's desire 
Joyful guard thy death-lit fire. 

Chorus: Men 

THE TOKENS OF DIONYSUS 

By the cup at thy leathern girdle, 

For the draught that sweetens toil. 
Thou art brother to all the brethren 

That conquer the stubborn soil. 
For thou hast yoked to our service 

The sun, the night, and the rain; 
And thy grateful vinesmen pay thee 

With toll of sweat and pain. 
That the wine of the victors' vintage 

May gush from the barren sod 
Thou sealest thy sons, the chosen ones, 

To follow the victor-god. 



10 LAUS DIONYSI 

By the fawnskin on thy shoulder, 

Got with the price of blood, 
Thou art one with the creature kindred 

Of thicket and field and wood. 
But the comrades of the forest 

Must fall at thy children's will 
When the lust of blood is on them, 

The passion of man to kill; 
For the spell of a savage fury 

Reigns where the brutes have trod, 
And ever thy sons, the chosen ones. 

Must follow the victor-god. 

By the bull's horn at thy forehead 
The Chosen share thy might — 

Lusty of limb and fibre. 

Framed for the hard-won fight. 

By the pledge of the fertile pine-cone 
That crowns thy wreathed staff 



LAUS DIONYSI ii 

With the token of life's renewals, 
Men fling at Death their laugh : 

O'er all his conquests conqueror, 
Thy feet with triumph shod, 

Thou sealest thy sons, the chosen ones, 
To follow the victor-god. 

Chorus : Boys 

THE WINE OF YOUTH 

With shout and song and Bacchic cry 
Thy worshippers go reeling by. 
Their lips all dyed with ruddy juice. 
Their tattered goatskins flying loose. 
Wild creatures from the coverts come 
To join the rout with antics dumb, 
And man and satyr mingled seem 
Like some mad figment of a dream. 
Women with streaming locks unbound 



12 LAUS DIONYSI 

Whirl tempest-like thine altars round; 
For men with eyes of roving fire 
The sacrifice flames high and higher. 
The grape, the grape! on every tongue 
Its praise and thine together sung! 

And we — the youngest-born of earth, 
O youngest of immortal birth, 
Need yet no draught of autumn wine 
To bring our hearts in tune with thine. 
We press no grape to drink our fill 
Of exaltation : ours to thrill 
From heart to prickling finger-tip 
With wine that staineth not the lip, 
The wine of youth, the wine of youth : — 
Who drink it need not seek thy truth; 
'T is theirs unasked — a heavenly flood, 
Wine of the young heart's leaping blood! 



LAUS DIONYSI 13 

Chorus: Men, Women, Boys 

SPRING IN THE HEART 

Spring in the heart, Eleutherios, highest of names ! 
The bonds of the spirit are broken; the prisoned 
go free! 
Mortal to mortal, emancipate, joyous, proclaims 
Spring in the heart, Dionysus, springtime from 
thee ! 

Fettered of darkness and cold lay the children of 
men, — 
For vision a dimness, the soul but a perishing 
slave, — 
Till the light and the warmth of thy being spread 
earthward, and then — 
Then what a glamor and glory thy godhead out- 
gave ! 



14 LAUS DIONYSI 

Eyes that were lustreless shine with all beauty's 
delight, 
Flashing to grace and to color their signal, their 
gleam; 
Murmurs of song thrill sweet on the soundless 
night, 
Music of reeds and the wind on a magical stream. 

Lips that were dumb break forth in thy passionate 
praise. 
For spring in the heart, Dionysus, is light to the 
blind ; 
The ways of the spirit of song, love and life are thy 
ways — 
Flame of the fires of youth at the heart of man- 
kind! 



FINALITIES 
I 

THE AMBUSH 

Sudden turnings of the trail, 
Fading footprints, clues that fail — 
What may not these portents mean 
When the Foe is all unseen, 
And each fated pioneer 
Fares along the grim frontier? 

Lurking somewhere, left or right, 
Near the pathway, safe from sight. 
In his ambush subtly laid, 
Stands the patient, hostile Shade. 
Come you marching like a kingj 
Like a craven loitering, 



1 6 FINALITIES 

Still the unconquerable Foe 
Waits your coming: forward go. 

Thus along the grim frontier 
Fares each fated pioneer. 

n 

THE LAST ENEMY 

For my destined last defeat 
Naught of mercy I entreat; 
Only borne to earth and faint 
May I fall without complaint; 
But, dear Foe, for them I love 
All thy mercy would I move. 
Torture not their end with vain 
Long vicissitudes of pain; 
Though they feel thee lurking near, 
Let their brave hearts laugh at fear 



FINALITIES 17 

Then bestow thy sweetest gift, 
Smiting merciful and swift. 
Yet — yet may the stroke be stayed 
Till at evening, undismayed. 
They shall seize the vision far 
Of one reassuring star ! 

Foe no longer, friendly death, 
So thy horror vanisheth. 



THE VALIANT 

Not for the star-crowned heroes, the men that 

conquer and slay, 
But a song for those that bore them, the mothers 

braver than they! 
With never a blare of trumpets, with never a surge 

of cheers. 
They march to the unseen hazard — pale, patient 

volunteers ; 
No hate in their hearts to steel them, — with love 

for a circling shield, 
To the mercy of merciless nature their fragile 

selves they yield. 
Now God look down in pity, and temper Thy 

sternest law; 
From the field of dread and peril bid Pain his troops 

withdraw ! 



THE VALIANT 19 

Then unto her peace triumphant let each spent 
victor win, 

Though life be bruised and trembling, — yet, lit 
from a flame within 

Is the wan sweet smile of conquest, gained with- 
out war's alarms, 

The woman's smile of victory for the new life safe 
in her arms. 

So not for the star-crowned heroes, the men that 

conquer and slay. 
But a song for those that bore them, the mothers 

braver than they! 



FOR THE NIGHT 

Give me of all thy weariness, O day! 

Let body, mind, and spirit so be spent 

That when death's herald-brother, sleep, is sent, 

Resistless, I may yield me. to his sway 

Till the black silence lulls me to content. 

Then let the dark fall like a total shroud, 
And fold me in till day again is bright. 
Not lifting with the gray retreat of night. 
To leave me lying mute before the crowd 
Of gliding shapes that steal upon my sight. 

Dread ghosts are they of all my deeds misdone 
And words unspoken; shield my wakeful bed 
From hours of dawn when most they rear their head, 
To whisper me of ungrasped moments gone, 
To mock my impotence now all is sped. 



FOR THE NIGHT 21 

Nor give me dreams, for they will lead my feet 
To walk in paths wherefrom I needs must turn 
For streets of day; and though in sleep I spurn 
Their semblances, and vaguely scoff the cheat. 
Yet when the parting comes, the heart will burn. 

Nay, as if under Death's dark still caress, 

New courage silently would I attain 

To fight the new day's fight — and not in vain. 

If from its hours I win fresh weariness, 

To make me ready for the night again. 



DISTINCTION 

The village sleeps, a name unknown, till men 
With life-blood stain its soil, and pay the due 

That lifts it to eternal fame, — for then 
Tis grown a Gettysburg or Waterloo. 



OF ELIZABETHAN POETS 

Our later singers vaunt their new- turned lays, 
Doubling, they say, the world's poetic store; 

We turn to pages writ in Shakespeare's days, 
And lo ! the songs have all been sung before. 



THE UNSEEN PANOPLY 

He is dead — the towering chief, 
And the world must say farewell 
With the grandeur of public grief, 
With pageant and chant and knell, 
With the heavy fragrance of flowers, 
And the lingering march of those 
Who would hold the headlong hours 
When eternity presses close. 

Thus for the soul far sped 
Let his ashes honored be, 
For the master of men is dead, 
And but once come such as he. 

As he sank, an infant's breath 
Flickered and paused and ceased; 
To serve at the rites of death 



24 THE UNSEEN PANOPLY 

Came father, mother, and priest. 
Where were the stately show, 
Dirge and garlands and pall? 
Where was the pomp of woe ? — 
Two hearts enwrapped it all. 

No echoing word was said. 
There was naught for the world to see; 
But the first-born child lay dead. 
And but once come such as he. 



THE LARK SONGS 

It was not thou alone I heard, 
First lark that sang from English skies, 

And to mine ears seemed less a bird 
Than chorister of Paradise. 

Full sweet from heaven thy music fell, 
Yet with it came two voices more, 

Two songs that blent with thine to tell 
The praise I knew of thee before. 

Thy truth to home and heaven sang one — 
And Wordsworth's note serene and strong, 

With earth and sky in unison, 
Made of thy flight itself a song. 

The other blither strain I caught 
Bore never a message but "Rejoice" — 



26 THE LARK SONGS 

Song of thy very song, methought, 
Exultant with thine own glad voice. 

And unto this, I knew not how, 
Rose answer from the sons of men : 
" The world is listening, Shelley, now, 
As thou didst listen then." 



A BIRTHDAY VERSE 

How fierce the storm that starless night 

When she put forth alone ! 
Watching through tears that quenched my sight, 

I paced a shore unknown. 

But oh, when morning broke, and day 

Smiled up across the tide, 
Here in the harbor safe she lay, 

Her rescue by her side ! 



THE PLAY 

Through countryside and teeming towns 
The troupes of heroes, trulls and clowns, 
Captains and dames of high degree. 
Live out their farce, their tragedy. 
Half players in this world-wide show, 
Half lookers-on, 't is ours to go 
Bewildered, wondering what the scene 
And all its pageantry may mean; 
Crudely commingled, bad and good. 
Nothing complete, naught understood. 

Are we then doomed till death to gaze 
Distraught on life's chaotic plays? 
Are there no spectacles more fair ? 
Yes, in those blest dominions where 
The flying strands of life are caught 



THE PLAY 29 

By magic, and by art are wrought 
To fabrics for the still delight 
Of eyes that shine with spirit sight. 
Here from the soul spring questionings 
Straight to the inmost heart of things; 
Here all the sons of Shakespeare dwell 
And all the daughters of Rachel. 
To every baffled fugitive 
From life's disorder still they give 
Laughter and tears — and grace to see 
The truth in life's epitome. 



PROPORTION 

There rose a star above the hill 

Across the bay; 
Through the night-spaces vast and still 

Shone the great ray; 
Beneath it glowed a lesser light 

By mortal lit, 
Yet through the dark a path as bright 

Led back to it. 

Here in the day a bird flies by, 

Above the trees; 
On other vision bent, mine eye 

Unheeding sees. 
Was it a distant eagle's wing 

That clove the blue, 



PROPORTION 31 

Or some near insect harvesting 
The honey's dew ? 

If eyes deceive, then let my soul 

See clear and straight; 
Through all appearance, part and whole 

Stand separate! 
Know, soul, what things are near, what fary 

Sift great from small; 
Seize, soul, — whate'er the visions are, — 

The truth in all. 



THE SEA VOICE 

Up from the harbor side, 

Over the city's midmost hush of night, 

Swells, like a flooding tide, 

The insistent voice of some great ship, 

Deep-throated, as a man of might. 

Calling, perchance, new greeting to the land 

Now safe at hand; 

Or it may be with bugle at her lip, 

Seaward she flings the first far-reaching cry 

Of that vast speech of hers, whereby 

She sounds her way from strand to strand. 

Through ocean's fog and storm and mystery. 

Housed safe ashore, deep down 

Beneath the mountain clamor of the town, 

Never by day comes clear to me 



THE SEA VOICE 33 

That rough old voice of the sea. 

Only in chance-caught silences men hear, 

As if by night, the ages' tale, — 

All are but dwellers by a shore. 

Mariners waiting their command to sail 

Forth on the uncharted sea each must explore. 

So strange a sea, so near. 



THE EVANGEL 

The songs of Christmas had not ceased 

Upon the New Year's air 
When first from realms unknown released 

Her spirit sought our care. 

And 'mid the watch with hope and dread 

Hark! in the dawn-light dim 
A child's voice in the room o'erhead 

Wakes with a crooning hymn. 

While shepherds watched their flocks by night. 
All thoughtless sings the boy ; — 

Shall lisping lips foretell the flight 
Of fear, the flood of joy ! 

Fear not — still hear the herald sing 
The treasured words of old; 



THE EVANGEL 35 

Glad tidings of great joy I bring — 
The ancient truth is told ! 

For now the first small plaintive cry 

Of life stirs with the morn, 
And heaven to earth again draws nigh — 

To us a child is born. 

Thus came the Child of God to earth; 

And since the world began 
An angel song for each dear birth 

Rings in the heart of man. 



UNCONQUERED 

High o'er the city's roofs a storm-blown gull, 
Driven landward from the sea, 
Battles against the winds without a lull, 
Yet inland farther, ever back. 
Helpless is tossed with flying rack; 
But, messenger of constancy to me, 
I joy to see him facing ocean still, — 
As beaten souls through storm and night 
May changeless face the hidden light 
By heaven-sent power and strength of steadfast 
will. 



THE HELMSMAN 

What shall I ask for the voyage I must sail to the 

end alone? 
Sununer and calms and rest from never a labor done ? 
Nay, blow, ye life-winds all; curb not for me your 

blast. 
Strain ye my quivering ropes, bend ye my trembling 

mast. 
Then there can be no drifting, thank God ! for boat 

or me, — 
Eager and swift our course over a living sea. 
Mine is a man's right arm to steer through fog and 

foam; 
Beacons are shining still to guide each farer home. 
Give me your worst, O winds ! others have braved 

your stress; 
E'en if it be to sink, give me no less, no less. 



BY THE SHORE 

Town-bells over the land, 

Fog-bells over the sea; 

On the beach between in the mist I stand, 

And each bell calls to me. 

Out of the fog I hear : 
"Come, I am cool and sweet; 
My veil shall wrap thee away from fear, 
My paths shall rest thy feet. 

" Come, as the ship that came 
Into me on a morn of gray; 
Follow it, naming Love's dear name, 
And find what it bore away. 

"Find? Yes, so it may chance; 
Yet come for the respite's sake ; 



BY THE SHORE 39 

Enough that I pledge you my ocean's trance 
And oblivion — come, and take ! " 

And the land-bells ring me: "Here, 
Here are the fixed and true; 
We ring for the lifted mists, the clear, 
Sure noons of gleaming blue. 

"Out into the day we call 
You and your peers, like men, 
Girt as ye are, to win and fall, 
And falling to win again. 

"Strength is yours for a shield; 
Take heart, and grasp it fast! 
Come, and bear from the hard-fought field 
The guerdon of love at last!" 



40 BY THE SHORE 

On the beach in the mist I stand, 
And voices are calling me, — 
Town-bells over the land. 
Fog-bells over the sea. 



FLAGS AT HALF-MAST 

But yesterday the winds of hope 
Took heart of every banner high, 

And sped across each peopled slope 
And port of ships beneath the sky. 

Now to the colors drooping low 
The winds creep heavily, and pass, 

Bearing a weight of public woe; 
Alas for yesterday, alas! 



THE DEATH 

I SHUDDER not when back I bend 

My thought on life's first painful breath ; 
Nor will I tremble for the end — 
The last is only death. 

To fear this death would shame my birth, 

Yet lowers a death I fear to die — 
Even before our inn, the earth, 
Has place for me to lie. 

It shall overtake me when the face 

Of spring or winter speaks no word, 
When wind and water stir apace 

And naught but sound is heard; 

When walking in the silent wood 
I find no spirit breathing there, 



THE DEATH 43 

No presence in the solitude 

Else spreading everywhere. 

It shall befall when, deaf to hear 

And dumb to speak what heart tells heart, 
Through one long winter of the year 
I fare from friends apart; 

When noble music, tale, or deed 

Warms not the blood to swifter flow, 
When numb alike to art and need 
In dull content I grow : — 

This were the dread and inmost fate, 

And burial were the end thereof. 
Should dearth of loving, known too late, 
Lose me the way to love. 



THE ORCHESTRA 

Upon the mountain's morning side 
The players, all in feathered coats, 

On tree-tops swing, in thickets hide, 
And sound preliminary notes. 

The violinists here and there 
Tune all their many strings unseen; 

Long sloping tones are in the air, 
With pizzicato bits between. 

Hark ! 't is a flute's roulade so near 
That revels gay and unafraid ! 

And there ! the clarinet rings clear 
Its mellow trill from yonder glade. 

The gentle tappings of a drum 

Sound where the beeches thinner grow; 



THE ORCHESTRA 45 

Nearer a humorist is come 
Upon his droll bassoon to blow. 

And now a 'cello from afar 

Breathes out its human, dim appeal — 
A voice as from a distant star 

Where mortals work their woe and weal. 

Then down a sylvan aisle I gaze, 
And to my musing sense it seems 

A leader mounts a log, and sways 
His baton like a man of dreams. 

And here behold a marvel wrought ! 

For marshalled in a concord sweet 
The blending fragments all are brought 

To tune and harmony complete. 



46 THE ORCHESTRA 

Is it a masterpiece that men 

Have heard before — and found it good ? 
Is this the Rheinland o'er again? 

Am I with Siegfried in the wood? 

Nay — for this priceless hour 't is mine 
To share with Nature's audience 

A symphony too rare and fine 
For skill of human instruments. 

Leader, what music hast thou stirred! 

Players, still heed him every one ! 
And God be thanked for every bird 

That sings beneath the May-day sun ! 



THE FIRST OF SPRING 

What jingling tumult spans the air 
From where the brook runs swift and bright? 

The host of hylas piping there, 
Or winter's sleigh-bells faint with flight? 



WEEPING WILLOWS 

The first to don the green at winter's death, 
Last, ere he lives again, to lay it by, — 

Like tears are ye, that spring with man's first 
breath. 
And loyally attend him till he die. 



INTERPRETATION 

These gentle lines of Nature's face 

Are like a living face I love, 
And keen mine eyes have grown to trace 

What signs soe'er across it move. 

To stranger eyes a peace serene 
Broods over all, from east to west; 

For them 't is as a painted scene; 
For me it quivers with unrest. 

Now on the water something stirs — 
A sail, a breeze, a flotsam thing; 

Now from the point of junipers 
The birds fly out on seaward wing. 

Slow creatures o'er the pasture stray, 
The shadows up the hillside run; 



INTERPRETATION 49 

And lo ! through all the changeful day 
The miracles of wind and sun. 

The signal colors of the year 
Are mine to watch with heedful eye; 

The gradual seasons drawing near 
Claim vigilance and constancy. 

Unseen or clear the changes fall, 
And Nature's face that seems so still 

Is full of motion mystical 
And boding signs for good or ill. 

But ah ! the spirit hid within — 
When shall I learn its ways to trace ? 

The subtler skill when shall I win, 
And learn to read that living face? 



THE HORIZON AT SEA 

A LINE inexorably straight, 
In larger truth, a girdling ring, 

Fixed either way as firm as fate, 
And always onward beckoning; 

Clear-cut and far, or near and blurred, 
As powers of sun and cloud decree. 

By these thy provocations stirred, 
We seek the farthest mystery. 

Emblem of boundaries strictly set, 

Emblem of venturous search and hope, 

Circled by thee can man forget 
His limitation and his scope? 



THE FIELD-DAY 

A YELLOW banner first was seen 

Where every willow stood, 
Long, long before a hint of green 

Had touched the hillside wood. 

Then, as if autumn had come back, 

A glow of red returned 
To all the maple branches black. 

Whereon a dark fire burned. 

"Now strike your bleak and shivering tents!'* 

The signals gave the word. 
"Form, companies and regiments!" 

And all the army stirred. 

The marching orders of the year 
Were thus proclaimed at last; 



52 THE FIELD-DAY 

The field-day of the spring was near, 
The winter bivouac past. 

In suits of green they decked them out, 
Like Robin Hood's brave band; 

The May winds rallied with a shout, 
The warm sun lit the land. 

The orchard trees must lead the van 
With banners pink and white; 

And so they gathered clan by clan. 
And formed their lines aright. 

Then was the great commander heard, 
And the order came to march; 

And music fell from every bird 
Beneath the heavens' high arch. 



THE FIELD-DAY 53 

From street and lane and park and field, 

From road and hill and shore, 
The great green army wound and wheeled 

Across the world once more. 



"HOAR-FROST LIKE ASHES" 

An autumn field gave back the moon's wan smile; 

Each gazed at each, like lovers pale and fair; 
When morning came and wondering laughed awhile, 

An ashen glory lingered everywhere. 



WINTER BEAUTY 

Here stands a parable in all men's sight: 
'Mid the green grass yon bowlder showed but 
gray. 
Now snows have clasped it in their frame of 
white, — 
'Tis green with lichens, as the early May. 



A TREE 

Blown all one way I saw it stand 
Forth from its fellows of the wood 

That faced the sea-winds on the strand, 
A tall, unflinching brotherhood. 

Compassed by them, it might have grown 
In strength and symmetry like theirs, 

Not leaning landward now alone. 
Like one unfriended, bent with cares. 

The winds had shaped it, — so I mused. 
And gathered round I seemed to see 

The forms of creatures, storm-blown, bruised, 
Resting beneath their kinsman tree. 

Some were the men bent all one way 
By blasts of bitterness and wrong. 



56 A TREE 

Doomed to a single-handed fray, 
Too weak to meet a foe so strong. 

The winds of poverty and loss 

Of all that man counts dear on earth — 

Whether the gold be gold or dross — 
Had shapen some to forms of dearth. 

And those there were whose backs were bowed 
By breezes they had thought all fair; 

Prospered and loved too much, they showed 
Distorted as the ugliest there. 

Alien to joy, to sorrow near. 
The subtler pains most subtly felt, 

All the sad company was here, 
Wherein misforming grief had dwelt. 



A TREE 57 

And now the wind-bent tree is more 

Than tree unto mine inmost ken, 
For in its image by the shore 

I see the world-bent forms of men. 



GOLDENROD 

The dying summer, loath to lay aside 
Its customed many-colored robe of pride, 
With the last effort of a vanquished god, 
Skirts all its fields and roads with go!denrod. 



REVELATION 

Our air hangs full of dust specks seen by none, 
Until a shaft of light, as from a bow, 

Pierces its arrowy way from God's clear sun, 
And shows what stuff we're breathing here below. 



FIRE OF APPLE-WOOD 

The windows toward the east and north 
Rattle and drip against the storm. 

Though spring, without, has ventured forth, 
Only the fireside here is warm. 

Through wind-swept sheets of driven rain 
The ancient orchard shows forlorn, 

Like brave old soldiery half slain, 
With gaps to tell the losses borne. 

And fragments of the fallen trees 
Burn on the hearth before me bright. 

The fire their captive spirit frees; 
Musing, I watch it take its flight. 

In embers flushed and embers pale 
Sparkle the blooms of some far spring; 



6o FIRE OF APPLE-WOOD 

Of bees and sunshine what a tale 
Told in a moment's flowering! 

How swift the flames of gold and blue 
Up from the glowing logs aspire! 

There yellowbird and bluebird flew, 
And oriole, each with wings of j&re. 

Now in the hearth-light — or the trees — 
Stirs something they and I have heard : 

Ah, is it not the summer breeze, 
Come back to us with sun and bird? 

Poor summers, born again — to die ! 

Quickly as they have come, they go. 
See, where the ashes smouldering lie, 

The orchard floor is white with snow. 



BROKEN STILLNESS 

Say you the gentlest note of Nature's speech 
Falls with the last faint raindrops of the spring, 
Or murmurs in the tide along the beach, 
Or in the leaves to slow winds answering? 
Gentle are these, but gentler, hark ! how low — 
The sibillant whisper of the falling snow. 



BEFORE THE SNOW 

The yellow flame of goldenrod 

Is spent, and by the road instead, 
The flowers, like smoke-wreaths o'er the sod, 
Hang burned and dead. 

The sumac cones of crimson show 

Beyond the roadside, black and charred; 
The trees, a bloodless, ashen row, 
Stand autumn-scarred. 

Dark are the field-fires of the year; 

Let all the flickering embers die! 
Without, the cold white days are near; 

Within are warmth — and you, and I. 



SONG 

Is it that I am poor in love? 

Nay, dear, unless it be 
My poverty, forsooth, I prove 

By love for none but thee. 

Is it through wealth of love that men 

Can see the first fires die. 
And give their hearts again, again? 

Then thrice a pauper I! 

But since to thee I 've given all 
That, rich or poor, was mine, 

I can abide whate'er befall 
The gift, dear, now 'tis thine. 



BITTER-SWEET 

They gave the garden Friendship's name, 

And planted many a seed, 
Unthinking, till a wizard came 

And did a wondrous deed. 

Where one seed lay he touched his wand, 

And high all else above. 
Sprang full-blown, fair all flowers beyond. 

The blood-red flower of Love. 

Then one said, " Come, be friends again," 

But ah! what magic cry 
Can bid the bloom grow back? Tis vain! 

The bittered flower must die. 



THE BLIND 

In empty days now left behind, 

I asked why Love was counted blind. 

No answer came until I learned 
What every lover has discerned : 

The blind — my answer ran — are reft 
Of one thing, but how much is left ! 

Touch, hearing, every quickened sense 
Thrills with an impulse thrice intense. 

And so when Love has filled the heart. 
Dull man awakes in every part; 

Undreamed-of potencies are rife 
Within him, crying "Sweet is life!" 

And if half-blindness be his lot, 
What matter — since he knows it not ? 



GIVING AND KEEPING 

Better than thy gift, dear friend, 
Rare and precious though it be. 

Is the thing thou couldst not send 
From thy inmost heart to me. 

Who am I to say thee so? 

Who but one taught long and well 
That from out the hand can go 

Naught that in the heart doth dwell? 

When to thee with gem or flower, 

I would offer most besides. 
Then, beyond a giver's power, 

Most within me still abides. 



A TREASURE HOUSE 

The poet's song, the painter's art, 
Are richest when they tell but part; 

We hear the sweetest player, and thrill 
With dreams of music sweeter still; 

The spring's first brightness is so dear 
Because we feel the summer near; — 

Shall I not love my love the more 
For keeping wealths of love in store? 



A SERMON 

Ten crimson drops of nature's blood, 
Ten berries of the alder tree, 

Saturday's gleaning from the wood, 
Went to the ch,urch with you and me. 

And while the learned doctor there 
His theologic missiles threw, 

These children of the sun and air 
Sat calm and heedless — so did you. 

But once I saw a small caress 
Steal from your finger to their cheek 

With messages of tenderness 
And sympathy no word could speak. 



A SERMON 69 

'T was then I felt you kin to them, 

Pagan and nature-bred and free; 
And you and that bright woodland stem 

Preached gospels of your own to me. 



AT THE HEART 

The heart is but a narrow space 
For paltriness to find a place; 
But in its precincts there is room 
Sufficient unto bliss or doom. 
The certainties, so few, are there, 
The doubts that feed the soul with care; 
The passions battling with the will 
To guide their liege to good or ill; 
The saving grace of reverence. 
The saving hatred of pretence; 
The sympathy of common birth 
With all the native things of earth : 
The love begun with life, the love 
That years diminish not, nor move; 
And — more in such a narrow space ? — 
The image of a woman's face. 



THE HEADSMAN 

(On a picture found in an old country house) 

Covered with dust of years long dead, 
And hard beset by cruel chance, 

The painting and the girlish head 
Bear still the grace of ancient France. 

Look closer — yes — 't is poor Lamballe, 

The friend of royal Antoinette, 
Fair flower by Terror's fierce mistral 

Cut down untimely — fragrant yet ! 

Now the time-darkened eyes look out 
Through glass in broken forms grotesque. 

With curious cobwebs hung about 
In quaint festoon and arabesque. 



72 THE HEADSMAN 

And one grim spider in his zeal 

Across the round white throat has made 
A straight line as of tarnished steel, 

In mocking memory of the blade. 

Dull emblem of oblivion wrought 
Where now my hand can brush it by — 

And thus a century is taught 
What once it was for her to die ! 

Picture and cobweb — ah, how vain 
On earth's remembrance yet to call! 

The sum of beauty and of pain, 
Spider and painter tell it all. 



THE FIELD OF HONOR 

Soldier and statesman fall no more 
Like Hamilton, slain in his pride; 

No sailor hero seeks the shore 
To die as great Decatur died; 

For honor's code of murderous lust 

Lies buried 'neath dishonor's dust. 

Now in the dark east waits the day 

Long prophesied, prayed, yearned for still, 

When angered nations shall obey 

God's law for men — thou shalt not kill. 

Then all the codes of blood shall cease, 

And fields of honor smile with peace. 



THE PHYSICIAN 

The lightning spark, the flowering field, 
The chemic lore of every land — 

All nature and all science yield 
Their tribute to his healing hand. 

These garnered wonders of the earth 
He carries to each home of pain. 

Where, through some spell of magic worth, 
His gentle strength brings hope again. 

And rooms of darkness grow to light. 
And life beloved gains yet a span. 

Hail him who stays the march of night, 
God's present minister to man ! 



GEOGRAPHY 

When you were once in Italy 

Its consecrated map 
Glowed like an ancient broidery 

Immune from time's mishap. 

And where you tarried for a space 

In fabled cities there, 
Each spot took on a passing grace 

That made the map more fair. 

The name of Florence shone as clear 

Beneath my curious gaze 
As if a Beatrice drew near 

To light our darker days. 

And Venice by the bridegroom sea 
Stood radiant as of yore; 



76 GEOGRAPHY 

What wonder if its glow for me 
A nuptial semblance bore! 

In Rome's eternity of youth, 
'Gainst every shock secure, 

I saw what things of love and truth 
May perish yet endure. 

So much for Italy : you turned 
New countries to salute, — 

The map became once more a spurned, 
Disreputable boot. 



LESBIA'S SPARROW 

« 

(From Catullus) 

Mourn, Goddesses of Love, and Cupids, mourn, 

And men of gentler mould where'er ye be; 

My sweetheart's sparrow hath been seized by 

Death — 
The sparrow, darling of my loved one's heart, 
Which she was wont to love more than her eyes; 
For he was sweet as honey unto her, 
And knew her as a maid her mother knows; 
Nor from her bosom was he fain to move, 
But hopping round about, now here, now there, 
He piped unto his mistress, her alone. 
And now along the darksome road he goes 
Where never step, men say, has yet turned back. 
Then ill betide you, wicked shades of hell. 
Which swallow up all lovely things ! So fair 



78 LESBIA'S SPARROW 

A sparrow have ye borne away from her. 
The evil deed is done, alas ! Poor bird, 
It is thy fault that swollen eyes are red 
Through weeping, — that my loved one's eyes are 
red. 



"WHOM THE GODS LOVE" 

" Whom the gods love die young " ; — if gods ye be, 
Then generously might ye have spared to us 
One from your vast unnumbered overplus, 
^ One youth we loved as tenderly as ye. 



A GALA DAY 

Men make them ready for the pageant bright 
With banners, robes, and panoply of cost, 

Yet cannot hold the rain-cloud of a night 
From that whereby the brilliance all is lost. 



INVESTIGATION 

There was a simple citizen 
Who read the news each day, 

And marvelled much that living men 
Their trusts could so betray. 

" Since all the world is steeped in sin, 
Were it not well," quoth he, 

"That some inquiries should begin 
At home, like charity?" 

And so this very simple man 

Put questions to himself. 
Though surely 't was a worn-out plan, 

Fit for a dusty shelf. 

He asked if he had ever bent 
To custom's smug control. 



INVESTIGATION 8i 

And made — 't was so expedient — 
Small rebates to his soul. 

Then how before all-searching eyes 
Would show his kindliest act? 

In what preservatives and dyes 
Were half his motives packed? 

Honor like his stood so secure 
That none could tempt it — still, 

Had he, with specious, subtle lure, 
Bribed never yet his will? 

Thus did the simple citizen 

Probe in his private court: 
The findings lie beyond our ken — 

He's published no report. 



THE LAST ACT 

If life 's a play — then what of us who sit 

Filling the boxes, balconies, and pit? 

How strange the drama, when not one of all 

Can keep his seat until the curtain fall ! 

Some stay the first act out, and some the second; 

Who see the fourth "old stagers" may be reckoned. 

But ere the last is ended, every one 

Takes up his cloak, and, looking back, is gone — 

Like poor suburbans hurrying for a train, 

Longing to see the end, alas ! in vain. 



AFTER ALL 

How shall the storm end? Thus, for me: — 

By night, with a west wind strong and free, 

Rolling seaward the clouds on high 

Like routed squadrons across the sky, 

Across the moon that shall change their gray 

To the silver-white of a mystic day; 

Rifts there shall be, and back, far back, 

In the depths of the blue so nearly black, 

A few sure stars like eyes shall shine 

And say, " Here the storms end, earth's and thine." 



THE TRAVELLERS 

Xhey made them ready and we saw them go 

Out of our very lives; 

Yet this world holds them all, 

And soon it must befall 

That we shall know 

How this one fares, how that one thrives; 

And one day — who knows when ? — 

They shall be with us here again. 

Another traveller left us late 

Whose life was as the soul of ours; 

A stranger guest went with him to the gate, 

And closed it breathing back a breath of flowers. 

And what the eyes we loved now look upon, 

What industries the hands employ, 

In what new speech the tongue hath joy, 



THE TRAVELLERS 85 

We may not know — until one day, 
And then another, as our toil is done, 
The same still guest shall visit us, 
And one by one 

Shall take us by the hand and say, 
" Come with me to the country marvellous. 
Where he has dwelt so long beyond your sight. 
'T were idle waiting for his own return 
That ne'er shall be; face the perpetual light, 
And with him learn 

Whatever the heavens unfold of knowledge infinite." 
Each after each then shall we rise. 
And follow through the stranger's secret gate, 
And we shall ask and hear, beyond surmise. 
What glorious life is his, since desolate 
We stood about the bed 
Where our blind eyes looked down on him as dead. 



« WHERE IT LISTETH" 

The wind is like a ravening beast to-night, 
Mad for its prey and howling down the trail; 
I hear without its baffled snarl and bite, 
And feel the shouldering of its fierce assail, 
Shaking the rooted walls with hideous din. 
And hoarse, as one with shouting, "Let me in!" 

Ah, ye who watch this night where sick men lie. 
Shelter their sleep as shrewdly as ye may ! 
So easily this blast that rushes by 
Might snatch a fitful breath and whirl away 
Into the blackness with it — on and on : 
"Whither," we cry, "oh, whither hath it gone?" 



A WINTER ELEGY 

(J. F. H.) 

To walk beside this winter shore 

Was not for his young feet; 
Of summer learned he all his lore, 
Smiling from life's wide-opened door, 

A summer world to greet. 

This icy channel's narrowed span 

'T was not for him to know ; 
His current, widening as it ran, 
Still smoothly spreads as it began, 
Free from our frost and snow. 

Like sails of shallops overset, 

The floes of ice are borne 
Along a tide he knew not yet 
Whose boat no chilling blasts had met, 

Where Hope's brave flag is torn. 



88 A WINTER ELEGY 

Now he is gone, I would not find 

These waters summer-fair, 
Girt round with meadows bland and kind; 
The rigors of the winter wind 

Better befit our care. 

Yet sometimes on the snow-wrapped hill 

A light at evening lies, 
Tender beyond the summer's skill : — 
What light, I wonder, fairer still, 

Gladdens his absent eyes? 

And sometimes, touched by winter's breath, 

I thrill with wakened powers. 
"Youth still is his," a whisper saith; 
"That searching spirit found not death, 

But life — more life than ours." 



I 



THE WAITING DEEDS 

(H. K.) 

Say not because the promised deed 
Dropped from his hand undone, 

His brow shall lack the laurel meed 
That conquerors have won. 

For pain stood baffled by the smile 

That marked him master still, 
And we who wished him strength the while 

Were stronger for his will. 

T is deed enough for some to be. 

Such deed his being was; 
And still of potent act is he 

The brave and gentle cause : 



90 THE WAITING DEEDS 

The hearts that beat with his shall hold 
The rhythm his life hath set; 

With them through human paths untold 
His spirit marcheth yet. 

And past the threshold where he stood 

We see in cohorts dim 
The thousand waiting deeds of good — 

Now ours to do, for him! 



I 



THE SUNRISE 

Blow out the candle, day is come; 

The watchers need no other light 
Than that which floods the solemn room 

Where life is passing with the night. 

Across the smiling acres green, 
Across the point, the bay, the hills. 

Strong, like the soul that loved the scene; 
The tide of dawn the chamber fills. 

Blow out the candle — small his care 
Whose mortal light burns, ah! so dim; 

Haply his vision opens where 
The eternal sunrise shines for him. 



92 THE SUNRISE 

Yes, day is bright about his bed, 

And night has vanished with his breath. 
Lo ! on his face, all shadows fled, 

The morning majesty of death. 



FOR E. W. H, 



THE ABIDING VOICE 

Once when you left me in a room alone, 
Sudden the world seemed void and black, 
So that my heart cried, "Were she gone, 
Gone, never to come back ! 
Some day, how will it be? 
What will remain for me ? " 
Then through the open door I heard 
Your gentle singing, as you stirred 
Li some unselfish task. 

And in my heart the answering song rang clear, 
" God bless her, always near." 

Now long miles spread between us, and I ask. 

Can we be sundered farther still ? 

These miles are naught, — 

Still I can feel your presence near, your song 



96 THE ABIDING VOICE 

Still mingles with my thought 

To shame my fears of distant ill, 

And make my faltering courage strong : 

For listening here I know 

That when the miles stretch into infinite space, 

Beyond the scope of sense or sight. 

Upon my spirit's vision there will glow 

Sometimes the semblance of your face. 

And on my spirit's ear, attuned aright, 

Will fall your gentle singing, by heaven's grace 

Borne down to guide me groping in the night. 

Unable, but through you, to reach your place. 

(1898) 



RETURNED 

bo near she walked beside the stream 
That ever from the path she trod 

She watched the shining towers that gleam 
Above the citadel of God. 

And ever from the vision bright 
Her eyes were lighted with a ray 

That shed on us a heavenly light 
And glorified the common day. 

Till wandering by the very shore 
She entered once the shrouded bark, 

That ferries every mortal o'er, 
To cross at last the waters dark. 

Halfway it sped, then backward turned, 
And hearts that wept beside the strand 



98 RETURNED 

With grateful joy unhoped-for burned 
When safe she came again to land. 

Nor was that nearer view for naught : 
Once more to earth when she was given, 

Back in her generous hands she brought 
Fresh lights and fragrances of heaven. 

(1904) 



FOURSCORE 

Yet is their strength then but labor and sorrow " 

Nay, not for all, not for the blest 

Whose strength it is to bring 
From out an antique day the best 
The ages gave to them whose quest 
Was with the gentle King. 

For bringing with them love and light 

And courage for new days, 
They arm a thousand for the fight, 
And fear no falling of the night 
On undiscovered ways. 

(1906) 



THE PRESENCE 

The vision seen from Patmos all may see : 
Prophets and poets draw their pictures clear. 
More strange the mystery that, beside God^s throne, 
Christ also dwells on earth. Where dwells He then ? 
These eyes that pierce the unseen may surely see 
What stalks or steals along our trodden ways. 
Where shall I seek, where find, the living Christ? 

Then hast thou sought where silent thousands kneel 
'Neath immemorial arches heavenward wrought 
As with God's hand from His own forest aisles ? — 
Where incense folds and lifts the floating prayer, 
And music to the heart's cry lends a voice; 
Where listening ears drink in the word of God, 
Where wandering eyes rest on the changeless cross 
And every symbol of the gentle faith 
That made this Christian world the world it is ? 



THE PRESENCE loi 

There, to thy vision, o'er the multitude 
Hovers no form of Christ the Comforter ? 

A mystic shape ? Yes — there it broods indeed; 
Yet for a sign more intimate I yearn. 

Then hast thou marked the Doers of the Word, 
Women and men of every clime and tongue, 
Cribbed by no builded wall, no cramping name, 
Wearing no badge but service to their kind. 
Healing the sick and strengthening the poor. 
Moulding just laws and ruling righteously. 
Spending themselves till all be gladly spent 
With opening darkened windows to the light; 
Sharing the common lot of common men. 
But to such ends that round them day by day 
Heaven's kingdom spreads its earthly boundaries ? 
Mid all this soldiery, this countless host 



I02 THE PRESENCE 

Whose warfare is the victory of love, 
Moves not the Captain plainly to and fro ? 

Yes, surely He is there; yet in the press 

Of them that minister and them that need, 

One can hut hearken, " There He passed — and 

there'' ; 
One may not stand as he who doubted stood 
And marked, past peradventure, hands and side. 

Turn from the many; fix thy gaze on one, 

One for whose path His footsteps mark the way — 

For such a path must somewhere touch thine own ; — 

Look on the tokens of His presence there : 

Heed in the voice that last sincerity 

Which holds pure heart and speech in perfect tune ; 

Watch in the human eyes the loving look 

Of Him whose deeds of mercy still are done. 



THE PRESENCE 103 

Again in human weakness see Him brave 
To bear the imminent cross, to walk in trust 
That Love encompasseth and guideth all, 
And so to walk in fearlessness and joy. 
Ever more like in outward semblance they 
Who move through years of inmost unison; 
So to His image hourly grows each one 
In whom the Christ His habitation makes, 
For not in creed or deed shines He so clear 
As in one radiant life aglow with Him; 
And daily for a sign shalt thou behold 
New Calvaries of self, and from its grave 
New resurrections of the living Christ. 

So neaTf and yet I sought Him far, — all hid 
Beneath a guise so plain I scanned it not ! 
Through all the seeming now His presence flames ; 
Nonv in the mortal flesh I feel the wounds. 
..(1908) 



i '^ 



\y 



THE INNER CHAMBER 

Peace dwelt with her, and faith, and gentleness, 

And all things else that dwell with souls benign. 

Hath she not left these in some visible shrine 

Whereunto we may press 

In holy pilgrimages, to renew 

Our strength that had been weakness but for her ? 

Nay, there is naught for outward view; 

I may not open any door and say, 

" Here with these trappings of her mortal day 

Some living part of her is yet astir." 

This may not be, but reared within my heart 

A secret, inner chamber stands apart, 

All furnished forth with her. — There charity 

And justice side by side appear, 

Not as mere dreams of good. 



THE INNER CHAMBER 105 

But as they stood 

Embodied in herself unchangeably: 
A charity that spread like shafts of light, 
Glowing with warmth and radiance near, 
Yet searching, reaching every lair of night; 
A justice, like God's mercy, fain to see 
In every soul an equal weight and worth, 
And, seeing, to withhold from none on earth 
The bread of love, the cup of sympathy. 
And here, the more to glorify the place 
With what she was. 

Are ancient firm beliefs in the old cause 
Of truth eternal, and, through heaven-sent grace, 
A smiling courage still by them to live. 
Here, too, is humor, warm and sensitive, 
Playing like a summer breeze 
Through open windows flooded with the sun. 
Tempering the air with all felicities 
Of true proportion. 



io6 THE INNER CHAMBER 

Hither I come for solace from the moil 
And emptiness without; 
And all about 

The signs of her — these and so many more ! • 
Blend as they blent of yore 
In aspirations deep 
And yearnings oft untold 
For them her inmost heart would ever keep 
Inviolate from hurt or soil. 

These thoughts of her like tapestries enfold 
My inner chamber, whence I turn again 
Refreshed, renewed to face the world of men. 

(1909) 



CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 



NOV 8 1909 



/COPY- OH.. TO CAT. OIV, 

NOV 8 11309 



^ I 



